a mans memories

July 10, 2010
By Anonymous

My eye's ache my bones are sore,
my pain does nothing more

than to keep me cold to keep me quiet to keep me complacent
with memories sturring, leaving my sanity not near adjacent

war floods back, his smile wide and red
then famines head rears, me wishing to be dead

the eye's of a child stare me bright
his hands shake, clutching a knife

my sweat like fire, my hands like ice,
i think once, not twice, nor thrice

my hands lift like blocks of stone,
my finger slides back, my mouth full of foam

his eyes draw back, his stare no longer hot,
and as he fell i said....what hath god wraught?

man "is" the sin, the devil he fears,
fearing ones self? doesnt seem so queer.

we are a plaugue a sickness, gods unwanted sons,
we are but a joke, a horror, some melacious pun

is nothing worse than man? a bieng much more conniving?
see only to god almighty, no wonder his touch is devining.

will be go out with a bang a whimper?
i can only know we will die by our brothers, the monsters, the rippers

The author's comments:
late night crap...its always soo....d*** odd

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